Push it, Baby, Out of Control
by mindFREQ
Summary: Inspired by the iPod Challenge. 10 ficlets. "Why was he talking so much right now, anyway? Couldn’t he just skip this and make out with her? He was good at that."


Here goes... my first foray into the Glee fic world. Long time Puckleberry fan, though, so... hopefully that counts for something. (FLAIL, they're so hot, B-T-Dubz. Guh.)

Inspired by the iPod challenge. Didn't actually _do _the challenge. Some of these (… most of these. Okay, **all of these**) are too long to be considered drabbles, because I have this weird, Rachel Berry-like tendency to ramble, so we'll just call them ficlets. One-shots? IDK IDK. But, regardless, enjoy. :)

I would've split this up into chapters, but it's 4 in the morning and I have work at 8:30am. My brain can't wrap around all the clicking that's necessary to fulfill that particular task.

iPod challenge:  
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.**  
**2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.**  
**3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. **  
**4. Do ten of these and then post them.

**Push it, Baby, Out of Control  
****Puck/Rachel, Glee.****  
**_by mindFREQ._

**1) Will Work For Love – Usher**

All she wanted was to be accepted. She thought she'd finally found that in glee, but even her club members looked down on her like she was worthless. So much for team work. She did everything for them. Gave up solos (solos she felt suited her voice _impeccably_, by the way), offered vocal help, extended olive branches to the ones who had permanently smeared her high school career with slushy facials and inappropriate slander and cartoon images of her drawn onto bathroom walls…

Yet, nothing. She was still and always will be the annoying, overachieving, diva wannabe in their eyes.

She just wanted someone to want her.

With all her assignments done and no MySpace videos scheduled for that night, she had nothing to do after school. She decided to practice the latest song Mr. Schue had assigned to the club – by herself (because, was there any _other _way she ever practiced?). She walked into the auditorium, staring at her dragging feet. Her head snapped up as she heard the faint strumming of a guitar followed by the same tune on a piano, with a melody added… except it sounded a bit off. The person on stage seemed to agree, letting out a frustrated sigh, running his hand over his mohawk before trying numerous different melodies to fit the guitar's chord progression. She slowly walked onto the stage, dropping her bag next to the piano.

"Can I help you with that?" She asked meekly… _cautiously_. She wasn't supposed to feel this fragile around any of her peers. But she wasn't supposed to _care, _anyway! One day, she'll be a big star, and these people will realize how lucky they had been to even walk within 10 feet of her in high school and wallow in regret. But at the moment, she did care.

He studied her reproachfully. He didn't say anything; just nodded. He scooted over on the piano bench to give her room to sit. He situated himself properly behind his guitar as her fingers danced around the keys, changing the arrangement around. He eventually started playing his familiar notes along with her, stopping when she did. She cast a sideways glance at him, a little afraid that he'd chew her head off for completely ruining what he'd been working on. He had a satisfied look on his face, nodding mutely at her.

But still, he said nothing. She sighed. _Figures, they all hate me. _"It's… it's a start, you can just work off of that and you'll have a hit in no time," she said softly before pushing herself up, smoothing her skirt out and grabbing her things. She made her way off the stage in silence.

"Hey, Berry?"

She turned around. "Yes?"

He looked unsure with himself. But only for a second. "Same time tomorrow?"

She smiled softly, giving him a relieved nod. "Same time tomorrow."

* * *

**2) 4 Seasons of Loneliness – Boyz II Men**

Lima was ridiculous in the winter. The snow was piled up to his knees, and of course his mom made _him _go out early some mornings to shovel up the driveway. The streets were slippery and getting to school was a total bitch. It didn't help that Puck developed a habit of running out of the house just 5 minutes before the bell rang. It took 10 minutes to get to school. Swerving on the road like you were in a Fast and the Furious movie was cool and all, but not when you almost hit the same mailbox around the corner 5 days in a row.

The only thing that really made winter worth it was watching her twirl in circles and catching snowflakes on her smiling face and pink mittens; her pulling him down with her to make snow angels (he denies he ever does it, but he's so whipped, it's fucking ridiculous); and snuggling up in front of her fireplace, the both of them wrapped in one big blanket, sipping hot chocolate (it's straight out of a cheesy Christmas movie, but making snow angels means having snow go down your pants, and that's not even fucking cool. He needs all the warmth he can get, and cuddling with Rachel is obviously the best solution).

The snow melts and the flowers start coming in. She suggests that they take walks ("because it's the perfect way to get exercise _and _spend time together," she said), and he obliges, hands dug deep into his pockets, kicking the not-yet-green grass with his sneakers and hopping over puddles while she hammers on about how much she loves spring, because she would be able to see her favourite flowers bloom again in her front yard. She likes peonies… whatever those are. She looks at him kind of expectantly, like he's supposed to react to her particular choice of flower.

"You smell better than peonies, I bet," he tries. She wrinkles her nose and smiles that Berry smile of hers, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him on the lips. He mentally pats himself on the back.

His summers used to consist of above ground pools, cleaning formulas, and cougars waiting for him with cool drinks. But this summer, he had a new gig. Every weekend, it was just them, driving a couple hours outside the city to the nearest beach. Didn't matter what time it was – it was summer. Their _last _summer before everything had to change. This weekend, they arrived at the beach just before sunset. It was perfect; quiet and warm, with no one in the water but them; which was good, considering Puck had crept up behind her and snatched her bikini top off her body. She had been horrified at first, but thanks to a few of Puck's kisses and his roaming hands, she quickly got over it.

The weather is getting colder and she clutches his thick pullover sweater with her tiny hands, her face buried in his chest. He has his arms wrapped around her petite frame, watching the leaves on the tree starting to turn red. Fall was arriving in a few weeks, and she was leaving. Her dads are loading up her car, giving them time to say goodbye. They promise to call, e-mail, and even go archaic and write letters to each other (even though he really doesn't have that kind of patience. But for her? Anything). They stand there for what seems like forever, and Rachel's dad calls her name. Time to go. A breeze blows by, and the scent of her hair drifts over him and he tenderly presses his lips on the top of her head.

"You're gonna kick Julliard ass, Rach," he says, grinning, trying to hide the sadness in his voice. He's a badass, he can totally do this. She gives him a watery smile and he feels his heart breaking.

He's so _not _looking forward to this year. It won't be the same with her a thousand miles away.

* * *

**3) Say It Again – Marié Digby**

"Say it," Rachel said, looking him square in the eye.

He narrowed his eyes at her, not blinking. "You first."

"You're a barbarian," she said, annoyed.

"And you're a prissy little princess, but you don't see me complaining," he challenged. Rachel Berry was nothing if not determined. She didn't reply, just held her chin up, stared at him, and waited. He sighed. "Fine. I enjoyed watching _West Side Story _with you and I would very much like it if we went and saw another musical together," he muttered the pre-rehearsed lines half-heartedly.

She leaned forward a bit, tilting her head. "And?"

He let out another, more loud and exasperated sigh. "Rachel, I have two tickets to go see _Rent _this Friday night." He blinked. Why was he doing this? She nodded slowly. He rolled his eyes. "You wanna go?"

She beamed. "I'd love to, thank you Noah."

"Rach, this is stupid, you're the one that _bought _the tickets," he huffed.

Her brows furrowed. "Well is it too much to ask that a boyfriend consider the needs of his girlfriend and act a _little _cultured once in a while?! And is it _wrong _for a girl to _want _to be asked out on a date? Is chivalry _really _that dead?! Forgive me if my tactics are somewhat unbecoming, but the least you could do is even pretend you have a _morsel _of interest in the things that I do – "

"Okay, okay, I already said I'd go!" A smile lit up her face. "But now _you _say mine. You told me you'd say it if I agreed to go see this thing with you."

The smile was gone. "I don't appreciate the mockery of my pre-scripted date proposal. The 'eye for an eye' concept is deplorable, _especially _if one 'eye' isn't even on the same level as the other. I'm not repeating it. And you know I despise and don't approve of inappropriate language, Noah."

He scoffed. "Like you've never cussed in your life!" He exclaimed incredulously. "You totally did last week in your room when you practically screamed at me to fu—"

Her hand covered his mouth so quickly that he almost staggered backward. Almost.

"It's _your fault _for exposing me to such language! You're a _bad _influence, Noah Puckerman," she scolded, lowering her hand.

"But…?" He sang, grinning.

She gritted her teeth. "But, you're the best thing to have walked down McKinley's halls; I'm the luckiest girl to have a boyfriend like you, and that one time I beat you in Madden '10 was… a total fucking fluke." She winced at the last part. "So I agree to have a rematch tomorrow night."

"And?" He pressed.

"And you're a badass," she finally said, rolling her eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

He smiled proudly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him to place a kiss in her hair.

"I know."

* * *

**4) High Hopes In Velvet Ropes – The Cab**

"What do you say we ditch this and go upstairs?" He said in her ear. She had to strain to hear him over the loud music. And the buzzing in her head.

"No. You're proverbially drunk," she said, her body slightly swaying to face him. He had to hold his arm out to catch her, then took the plastic cup she was holding out of her hand and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

"_You're _provertably drunk," he slurred.

Rachel rolled her eyes. That wasn't even a word. She poked a finger into his chest. "I'm not drunk, I'm merely…" she waved her finger in the air, searching for the right words. "Bewildered. Vertiginous."

"You're pissed drunk, that's what you are," he said loudly, throwing an arm over her shoulder while taking a swig of the vodka that was in his other hand. "Now come on, Berry. Come with me upstairs and show me all those notes you can hit."

"That's a pathetic line, Noah," she replied, clutching the front of his shirt with one hand to keep herself from falling.

He leaned over close to her ear, chuckling. "Yeah but you're totally buying it right now, admit it."

She didn't answer him, and the next thing she knew, she was on some bed, pinned under him, sloppy, wet kisses trailing her neck and chest. They became a tangled mess of limbs, her hair fisted in his hand several times through the night. Rachel couldn't even count the number of times she saw stars behind her eyelids.

She awoke to find herself alone and with a killer headache. Sitting up, she wrapped the sheets around herself and looked around in confusion. She waited for the room to stop spinning before she spotted an empty bottle of vodka empty and tipped over on the floor. Then she remembered. Her breath hitched in her throat. _It's okay, Rachel. You were both drunk. You didn't know what you were doing… It's okay. You were both drunk…_

Puck smirked up at the window to the room he had left her in. He knew what he was doing; his alcohol tolerance had sky-rocketed over the years – he was just an awesome actor. And if Rachel Berry thought she could break up with him and not even bother to know what she was missing out on, she had another thing coming. He grabbed his car keys out of his pocket and made his way to his truck.

He sure showed her. She was just another notch on the bedpost. Not like she would care; he knew he wasn't the one she wanted, anyway.

* * *

**5) Take It From Here – Justin Timberlake**

_Knock-knock-knock._

He woke up groggily. _What the fuck…? _His eyes went everywhere, wondering what that noise was.

_Knock-knock._

The door. He sighed and got up off his couch, turning off the ignored television. He couldn't believe he fell asleep on the couch _again_. He worked too damn hard for his own good sometimes. 3 years of working full-time and his body was _still _adjusting. He kicked his guitar case out of his path lightly, making his way to his apartment door.

_Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!_

_FUCK, I'm coming! _He screamed in his head. He couldn't do it out loud; his neighbours would have a bitch-fit. He flicked the lights on and unlocked the door, swinging it open quite forcefully. He was about to ream out whoever decided it was a good time to attack his door at 4 in the morning.

Then he froze, fully waking up. "Rachel?"

She was standing there, one arm wrapped around herself while her other arm was up, hand ready to knock on his door again. Of course. She had always been very persistent. He noticed her dishevelled hair, her tear-streaked face and her red eyes. His wave of anger returned, but for a completely different reason.

"He's cheating on me," she sobbed, getting straight to it.

He knew it. He was going to kill someone. All these years, he'd wanted her, but she was with someone else. And all of a sudden that someone decided to fuck it all up and cheat on possibly the best girl this side of Everywhere?! _Idiot._ "Get in," he said, not hesitating to let her inside.

"I came home early and he was in there with Quinn, in _our _bed, and I just lost it!" She sobbed, hands flailing everywhere dramatically in true Berry fashion. He just let her, because she needed to. "With _Quinn_, Noah! His _ex-girlfriend! _In _our bed! _A year – they've been doing this behind my back for a _year! _I'm so stupid, how could he do this to me?! I thought he loved me…" she was hitting his chest now, crying a new set of tears. He gritted his teeth, wanting to go over to her apartment and scold the shit out of his two former friends.

He let her cry on him, wrapping his arms around her protectively, slightly rocking her back and forth until her body calmed down. "I didn't know where else to go…" she sniffled into his chest.

"You're not going back to him." He felt her shake her head against him.

"I don't want to," she said just above a whisper, her hands clutching his shirt.

He moved his lips over her hair and spoke softly. "I'll go with you tomorrow morning to get all your things, okay?" She simply nodded, finally fully relaxing against him.

It was his turn now. He was taking it from here and he wasn't ever going to let her feel this kind of pain again.

* * *

**6) Pitterpat – Erin McCarley**

She knew she shouldn't be here. She loved Finn. _Right? _

She glanced over her left shoulder at his sleeping figure. He looked so calm; _peaceful_, even. Then she glanced at the digital clock on her right. She was staring at the bright red numbers, unmoving. She had to make up her mind. _Just do it. _Her brain seemed to shut down, because she didn't blink, and she just _sat there_. The 3 at the end of the clock became a 4 and she finally snapped out of her daze.

She bit her lip and, with everything she had, flung her legs off the bed as gently as she could. She moved her entire body off of the bed after her feet hit the ground and she scrambled around, grabbing all her clothes and putting them on hastily, not bothering with her cardigan as she made her way to the door. She just needed to get out. It wasn't right; if she stayed, he'd wake up to her in the morning and get the wrong impression. They couldn't be together.

Not when she was in love with Finn. She kept repeating that in her head as she took one last gaze at him from the doorway. _Or… not when I _think_ I'm in love with Finn._

She definitely couldn't stay if she wasn't completely sure about what – or _who_ – she wanted.

* * *

**7) Human Nature – Michael Jackson**

Finally. All her hard work had paid off, and she was _here. _The city lights were blinding, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She just got out of the cab after an entire day of moving into the loft. Next week, she would be on that stage, singing with the best of them. So what if she was only in the chorus line? Every starlet had to start _somewhere_. It was good enough for her that she had at least made it out of that cow-town. _Goodbye Lima, Hello to the rest of your life, Rachel Berry. _

"Rach?"

She turned at the sound of her name, and smiled at the person in front of her. His hazel eyes were looking at her with amusement, his right hand outstretched and waiting. "Come on; let's see what trouble we can get into in New York."

She smiled her award-winning smile and extended her own hand, letting him take it. Her eyes caught the glint of the ring on her left hand and her smile grew. _Finally.  
_

* * *

**8) Why Don't We Do It In The Road? – The Beatles**

"Raaaach," he whined, tugging on her poor excuse for a skirt.

She twisted away from his fingers, clicking her tongue. "No!" She said simply, her tone menacing.

"Come _on_, you can't start making out with me and moving your hands around like that then just stop out of nowhere and expect me to be okay with that. You know what that's called? It's called _being a prude_, Rachel."

She gaped at him in horror, her mouth forming an 'O' as her eyes stared at him in disgust. He almost groaned. He could think of a place where she could use that mouth. But he knew his words hit a chord in her and she would start bitching at him in 3… 2…

"You know, it's so _like you_ to not even _care _how special I think my first time should be. In your _truck, _Noah? It's so cliché! And in your neighbourhood; god, you couldn't even pick a decent suburban area for us to do this in."

He totally knew he was supposed to feel offended by that entire remark, but he was too damn horny to care.

* * *

**9) The World Should Revolve Around Me – Little Jackie**

"How could he _do _this?!" She cried, covering her face with her hands.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, plopping down in the chair in front of her. He wrapped his hands around her wrists, gently pulling them away from her face. She was all red and blotchy.

"Dude, stop being such a chick," he groaned, but wiped her tears with his sleeve anyway. He couldn't help it. He didn't like seeing her upset.

"I find that term completely degrading. I'm a _lady_, Noah," she said as sternly as she could through her tears. "And Mr. Schuster is out to get me, I'm sure of it."

"Whatever, lady." He thought 'ladies' were supposed to be prim and proper, not blubbery and whiny.

"He hates the idea of me making it big on Broadway and becoming the star that he failed to become, so he just _throws _all my well-deserved solos to other people!"

"Babe, you think _I _wanna do this song? Trust me, if it was up to me, it'd be yours," he assured, wincing.

"Then why did Mr. Schue have to give the solo to _you_?" She sniffled.

He tried not to be offended by that. He shrugged, feeling a sliver of pride. "He wants me to go all 'badass' with it. Change it up a little."

This brought on a new set of tears. "_No song _from West Side Story is supposed to be badass and tampered with! _Especially _not 'Somewhere'!" She got up and turned on her heel, and stomped out of the music room after letting out a sob.

Puck sighed. He was so _not _getting laid tonight.

* * *

**10) So Contagious - Acceptance**

There she was. He pushed his way through the door of the almost empty music room, going straight to where she was seated by herself as if he had tunnel vision. He grabbed the closest chair and dragged it right next to her, taking a seat. It had been eating at his insides for the last month, and nothing could take his mind off of it. Not video games, not cougars, not porn, and not even Quinn and the baby (and the latter was super important, so you _know _he had to take care of this right a-fucking-way). He just sat there, staring at her, he was pretty sure his face was scrunched up as he tried to figure out what to say to her. She had given him a small smile and the tiniest nod of recognition before going back to her sheet music, scribbling away at something.

"You were right," he said simply.

She pried her eyes away from her paper and looked at him curiously. "What?"

"I wasn't gonna break up with you; I just said I was because – no one breaks up with me. I break up with _them_," he said, bordering on a pout.

She just cracked a grin. "I know."

"Yeah, so… I don't know what's wrong with me lately, maybe it's too much dip, or too many footballs to the head, I don't know. But I gotta say it. Every time I look at you, it's like—"

"Look, Noah," she interrupted, turning in her seat to face him. She smoothed out her skirt and he couldn't take his eyes off of her legs. "Before you belittle me…" He looked at her confused. _What? No no no!_ "I meant what I said; when I hoped we could still be friends. And… I consider you one, even if you don't feel the same way, but—"

"I can't be friends with you," he blurted out suddenly.

She got that same hurt expression on her face again; the same one he left her with when he walked away the day at the bleachers. "But… but _why_?"

"I don't _want _to just be friends with you! I mean, we _could _be, but that wouldn't be enough. I need like… _more _than that. And I don't even know _why_, you know? I'm a _stud_, I'm on the football team, I'm badass as _fuck_, and you're… you know…" He didn't know how to finish that sentence. 'You're you?' God no, that sounded terrible. He hoped she got what he was saying, because he wanted to win her over _without _insulting her. He really hoped she got that.

She just nodded slowly, looking at her hands uncertainly. He straightened up in his seat then leaned towards her.

"But at the same time you're just… you're—" _damn _he was so bad with words. That was _her _department. Why was he talking so much right now, anyway? Couldn't he just skip this shit and make out with her? He was good at that. "You're just a _cool, chick, _Rachel."

She looked up at him and a small smile fell onto her lips. "You really think so?"

He paused and thought about it. Yeah, yeah she totally was. "Yes. I mean, I stopped being a douchebag to pretty much everyone – except, that creepy kid with the jew-fro, what the fuck is up with that, anyway?" She let out a laugh and thankfully let him continue. He needed to get it out of his system. "You're probably the only other person besides my mom, and _sometimes _my little sister, that actually gives a shit about me and _gets _me, you know? And that one week that we dated gave me some sort of… what the hell is that word. Epi-something," he snapped his fingers repeatedly, searching.

"Epiphany?" She suggested.

"Yes," he pointed at her. Damn his girl was smart. "Epiphany. I'm a better person around you, Rachel. I'm sick of being a deadbeat, and the only time I didn't feel like one was when I was with you. I probably sound like a total pussy right now, but I want to give us another shot. I'm gonna deny this whole speech thing ever happened, but I just had to get it out, I don't know." He looked down at his shoe and made invisible scuff marks on the floor.

"Okay, I'd love that."

His head shot up. "Okay?" He asked in confusion. She nodded, her eyes bright with delight. "Yeah?"

She nodded again, fully smiling now. He grinned his cocky grin and placed his finger under her chin and pulled her towards him, kissing her.

They totally neglected the fact that they weren't alone.

"Well got damn," Mercedes muttered from her spot while Kurt nodded his head in agreement, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair as he watched the two across the room.

"I know, it's like they switched bodies or something; I've never seen him talk so much," he mused.

"And she barely even said ten words…" Mercedes finished in disbelief.

"This is so creepy," Kurt concluded.

* * *

**BAM! 10 ficlet-thingies in one hour (and fifty-five minutes, really). I so didn't bother following the "only write for however long the song is" rule. I pulled the plots (or lack of) out of my ass, apologies if they really do seem like crap. Lol.**


End file.
